


Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

by dorothay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Teen Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 03:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7388170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorothay/pseuds/dorothay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU after BoH. During the Battle of Hogwarts, the Golden Trio is ripped apart. This is the story of how Hermione heals, with the help of the Weasleys, Harry Potter and the evidence of a love she lost. Slightly based on the above poem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. do not stand at my grave and weep

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this around 4 years ago, and I've finally decided to edit it and post it here. I'm hoping to continue the story over the following weeks, but right now I'm just so happy to finally be fixing this story although I'm afraid I've had a few issues with the past/present senses. Thank you for taking the time to read this and please let me know what you think!

“You - you alone will have the stars as no one else has them...In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you - will have stars that can laugh.” - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

 

"Do not stand at my grave and weep."  
Harry's voice carried across the Burrow's back garden. It was at this moment that Hermione's reserved face of grief broke, and the tears began to leak down her pale face. All around her, she could hear the hushed sobs and sniffs of the other mourners. They were seated in rows of golden chairs that were gathered around the carved wooden casket that rested under the old apple tree across the lawn. There were around 80 chairs which had been filled within minutes of the first mourners arriving, and more had come. There was now a crowd of standing witches and wizards gathered behind the chairs. Hermione was sitting behind Mrs Weasley who was in the front row with her entire family sat with her. Harry's empty seat was next to her, the air cool from his absence. They had quietly taken their places behind the family, Harry still feeling responsible for the gaping hole that was in their home and hearts, and Hermione couldn't leave his side. She saw the way that his shoulders sagged as he walked to the front, he still bears the weight of this loss entirely on himself, she thought to herself sadly.  
Hermione's eyes drifted to the right of the group, towards a patch of lawn where she had spent her last 5 summers watching Ron, Harry and the other Weasleys play Quidditch. She could see him now, the wind ruffling his already messy hair, bright blue eyes narrowing in concentration as he watched the pumpkin being passed between his brothers as he swooped and swerved around the makeshift goalposts.  
Hermione had never fully understood the appeal of Quidditch, and watching Harry gracefully swoop and swerve around the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, sharp green eyes searching for the miniscule flash of gold, hadn't changed that. Only when watching Ron in the air, taught muscles straining under his too small, hand me down t-shirt, sunlight bouncing off his sweat covered forehead, she understood. Only Ron could look this way, and could still be utterly, and completely, mind blowingly attractive. Hermione often found herself forgetting to read her dusty, worn book, open in her lap, and found herself staring at Ron's firm and strong body as he deftly handled the pumpkin-Quaffle, giving her a strange warm feeling in her chest.  
A heart breaking howl of desperation brought Hermione back to the present. Her seemingly endless trip down memory lane had only lasted a matter of seconds. The source of the distraction was Mrs Weasley breaking down, she clutched the front of her husband's robes, her gasping sobs catching in her throat. Tears wound their way out of Mr Weasley's eyes, trailing hopelessly down his cheeks, down his neck and beneath his sombre shirt. They were sitting in the front row by the aisle, the setting sun behind them that painted the casket a warm and dancing gold as it sat a mere 5 feet away.  
Harry finished reading out the poem, and after realising him and Ron needed no words of goodbye, he blinked and rested a hand atop the casket, then he mechanically walked over to Mrs Weasley and hesitantly, kissed her forehead. Mr Weasley untangled himself gently from his wife's arms, then he stood and pulled Harry into a one armed hug, keeping one hand tight in his wife's grasp. Mrs Weasley stood too, and gathered Harry into her arms, she then patted his cheek clumsily as they pulled apart, her eyes locked with his green ones. She and Arthur then stumbled towards the open casket. Hermione sat there numb as the other Weasley children stood and trudged towards the casket, Ginny was leaning heavily on her eldest brother Bill who seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright. Each Weasley solemnly touched Harry as they passed him as he stood at the front of the aisle, too broken to move. Charlie, unshaven and sombre gently punched his shoulder. Percy, straight faced and red-eyed silently gripped Harry's upper arm. Fred and George, both supporting Chudley Cannons gear, George with a clashing orange hat, Fred with a matching tie stood silently in front of him, Fred then chucked Harry under the chin, and George ruffled his hair affectionately. Harry offered a pathetic attempt at a smile, at which the twins eye's softened and then loped off to join their family gathered at the foot of the coffin. Bill gently placed his scarred hand on the space between Harry's neck and shoulder, and Ginny took his hand in hers, now equally supported. Bill looked between them, gave Harry an affectionate squeeze, and moved towards his mother, who latched onto him. She was finding it difficult to not clutch all her children to her chest. Ginny pulled Harry towards the red-haired crowd.  
Hermione's eyes softened at the sight. She was glad Harry had a family to call his own now. She had seen him during the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, he was gazing at the Weasleys as they shared their grief. Wishing to join them as they were the closest thing he had to a family, yet he did not want to invade on such a despairing yet peaceful moment. These moments had always ended with a member of the Weasley clan noticing him and pulling him into the midst of them. Hermione kept to the shadows. She had had a family. Ron and Harry. They were all she had ever needed. And now Ron was gone and Harry was tired and broken after the weight of his 17 year long fight had hit him. Just like that. It was as if her only source of light had been blown out. The future she had fought for herself had always involved Ron. Then suddenly she was engulfed by darkness. The darkness seemed to live in the gaping hole in her chest, every time she thought of him, which was almost always, she felt herself falling into the dark. So she shut it away, and concentrated on taking care of the wounded, on collecting bodies, on clearing rubble, fixing the place she had loved since she was an eleven year-old girl. She set herself tasks. One thing at a time. Anything to stop herself remembering. It was only when McGonagall sat her down, and forced her to have her wounds healed that Hermione had left to scar. The kind Head of House looked down at the young witch before her, she understood the love between the two children she had cared for, as if they were her own. She left to find Mrs Weasley to look after Hermione, but when they returned, her bed in the infirmary was empty.  
Harry had Ginny, and there was no doubt that they were going to get married, have lots of loud, kind and brilliant red-headed babies and live happily ever after. Harry was connected to the Weasleys with mutual love. And Hermione had nothing. A future she had once seen as her own was now Harry's. She had nothing tying her to the family she so desperately needed.  
So as the Weasleys were preparing to leave, she slipped away from the Great Hall, finding refuge in the remains of what was once the library. Only to be found by Charlie, who fetched his mother who arrived within minutes, her family trailing behind her. They had all noticed the loss of Hermione. Molly pulled the young girl into her arms. This was the first contact she had had with the witch she considered a daughter since the wedding 9 months ago. She had sent her sons all over the castle searching for her, she had asked at the infirmary, and discovered that Hermione had not had her wounds healed, and it had been two and a half days since the downfall of Voldemort. She placed her hand on the young witches cheek, the older wrinkled eyes searching the younger, smoother brown ones. She spoke quietly, respecting the quiet grief the two women shared.  
"I have always thought of you as a daughter. Always. I knew that if Ron hadn't proposed by the time you were both twenty, I would have smacked him silly. I don't know what, if anything, happened between you over the past year, but if I know anything for sure, it's that you captured that boy's heart. He loved you. And we love you. And I can't lose another child, we need each other. So, you are coming home with us, and we will get through this together. And if you make this difficult, I have a son, standing a few feet behind me, who will carry you home if I tell him to." Charlie waved. "Don't let you lose yourself in this, let us help" Mrs Weasley ended her little speech, and paused to wipe away her own tears, then Hermione's, who offered her a watery nod, the possibility of a smile playing across her young face. Mrs Weasley noticed the hollow, heart-breaking look that came over the young girl's eyes, and another tear leaked down her sorrowful face. It was only when a small hand slipped into the slightly larger one and gave it a gentle squeeze in gratitude, that the older woman's eyes softened. Molly stood and pulled the girl towards the rest of her family, who welcomed her with open arms, taking in her broken body, and sorrow filled eyes, that matched the eyes of everyone there.  
Hermione couldn't imagine what would have happened if she hadn't come home with them, she was so glad she did. She had known they were worried about her, it had been two weeks, and she hadn't spoken, hadn't laughed or even cried. She had shed tears, but she hadn't howled with pain and anguish, hadn't released the pent up emotions like the Weasleys had. She hadn't eaten, or slept properly since the Battle. The Weasleys found that helping to heal Hermione was, in turn, helping them heal themselves. Bill had sat with her outside, during the days after the battle, gazing out towards the horizon. Percy had found all her favourite books, and each day returned with a new one for her. Mrs Weasley had helped her to eat, she spent most of her time in the kitchen, cooking continually. It was as if her family had increased, not reduced. She was often found giving food away to the continual stream of friends and Order members that still continued to meet at the Burrow informally. It was as if everyone still needed the safety that the familiar surroundings provided. Ginny had helped her wash, removing all traces of blood and dirt from her body. When Hermione found herself flying towards the toilet, suddenly overcome with sickness, that seemingly had no reason or point, Charlie was always there to hold back her hair, stroke her back, and to hold her when she could no longer be sick anymore, she could sink into his arms and know that he would hold her as long as she needed. One of her greatest comforts was the twins. All the Weasleys had found it hard to sleep after the battle, but most had made it, exhaustion taking over their beaten bodies. Harry had fallen asleep at the kitchen table when they arrived. He had then slept for four days straight. But at night, Hermione couldn't escape the darkness, both literal and mental. It was Fred and George, who sat either side of her on Ron's bed, their backs pressed against the wall. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn't, they just let the silence continue uninterrupted. All the Weasleys had taken her in. Their scars were healing, but she felt as if she couldn't stop her heart from bleeding.  
Harry looks up from the coffin, where he stands with his family, and his eyes search for Hermione, his hand reaching for a hand that isn't there. He sees her, sitting alone with the sun setting behind her and his breath catches in his chest. Sometimes he forgets how young they are. He looks past her and sees Neville, and Luna, and Professor McGonagall, and Hagrid, and Seamus, and Dean all in the crowd. All of their eyes have shifted to Hermione, watching her small frame shake with the weight of her grief. Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, ever since their battle wounds were exposed, she has had that effect on people, she just inspires loyalty in anyone who understands her magic. Up until now she has looked tired, like she had battled the world and the world had won. But now, with the sun setting behind her, she glows. He untangles himself, and walks over to where she still sat, the only one left in the row. Her eyes were unfocused, and he knew she was remembering the past month. He held out a hand, and Hermione looked up, taking in his emerald eyes, shining with tears, and took his hand. She allowed herself to be pulled up, and although her legs shook, she stood fast. She held her head high, tears still steadily falling, and she walked forward, hand in hand with the Boy who Lived, towards her love, who didn't.


	2. i am not there, i do not sleep

"Winds in the east  
Mist coming in  
Like something is brewing  
About to begin  
Can't put my finger  
On what lies in store  
But I feel what's to happen  
All happened before."  
\- Saving Mr Banks

Six weeks after the funeral, Hermione found herself, once again, sitting under the boughs of the apple tree. It was dawn, and she watched the Burrow slowly flicker to life. The windows were illuminated in turn, seemingly drawing in all the light from the garden, making the world darker in comparison. Even the moon seemed duller. The thundering sound of several pairs of feet clattering down the stairs reached Hermione, breaking the silence, signalling supper time. Ron would normally be the first one at the table, eagerly awaiting the next meal, despite having stuffed himself with chocolate frogs from the stash in his room. Hermione turned to the gravestone she was leaning on. Her left shoulder and forehead had been leaning there a while, she could feel the grooves on her skin.

The gravestone was a rough rectangular slab of slate, placed by the trunk of the apple tree. Engraved in the centre of the stone was the Gryffindor crest. There was also a broomstick in the bottom left hand corner, and a crown in the top right. The other two corners held chess pieces. Each engraving was randomly spaced, the family had ensured there was no sense of frigid symmetry. Ron wouldn't have wanted that.

Hermione hadn't been able to eat with the Weasleys since the funeral. The memories of happier times at the Burrow were all too prominent in her mind. She knew she had to push herself past this, she would have to return to civilisation. Return to the living. But for now she was content with the peace that grief gave her. It had only been two months. Two months since Ron held her last. Since he laughed. Since he kissed her last. Since he surprised her with his memorisation of her words from years ago.

Hermione quickly blinked away her tears, banishing those thoughts as footsteps approached. This was one of her achievements, she had stopped crying all the time, something that had started after seeing Ron lowered into the ground, under the tree in the branches of which he had first told her that he loved her. In the usual Ron way, he had blurted it out during an argument. She had paused midway through a shout, then she had lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him with such a force that they had both toppled out of the tree.

Harry plopped down beside her, placing an arm around her shoulder, and she tucked her head under his chin. He sighed, and she felt the air leave his chest and heard the beating of his solid living heart. Harry is so quiet and brave, sometimes Hermione forgets he is suffering too. 

"Ron loved you. And I know you loved him. Just because no-one got to see you together officially, and that no-one knew, doesn't mean it wasn't what it was. Real. I saw what you had and it was wonderful" He tells her, hugging her closer to him as he talks into her hair before placing a kiss there.

She tucked her head in closer to his neck, breathing in his scent, and he pulled her in closer to him, wrapping his other arm around her.

"I need you to wake up from this. I need a best friend. Don't leave me here without one, I can't lose you both. I can't do this without you." She felt a tear drip down onto her face, followed by another. His tears mixed with hers, as they sat there for what seemed like hours, and actually was, watching the moon dip behind the hills. Faces appeared at the Burrows windows, watching them for a while, then leaving them to cry. One face remained longer. Then was gone.

Both gradually stopped crying.

"I need you, Hermione" he said, his words melting into the night. He was worried, she hardly ate, or slept, she just sat there with Ron during the day, usually joined by other members of the family. He knew from Charlie that she still threw up regularly. After the battle, Harry had regained the weight he had lost over the last year. But Hermione had gotten worse. He heard Mrs Weasley sob into her husbands' robes that she couldn't bear it, seeing her waste away, after losing Ron, she couldn't lose another child. Hermione didn't seem to understand that even though Ron was gone, and that no-one had seen them together, that she was part of that family. Each of the brothers looked to her as a sister, and Ginny as a best friend too.

"I'm going to marry Ginny. We don't know where or when, we haven't even told anyone. But she's going to be my wife. And we'll begin our lives together again. We'll be happy. Ron would want that, but more than anything, he'd want you to be happy. He'd want you to laugh." Harry's sobs were shaking his voice. "He'd want the world to hear you laugh again. I need to hear you laugh again. I need to know that I didn't lose you," he choked out. He felt cruel telling her he was moving on, finding love while hers was cold in the ground. He was so wound up that he almost missed the brightest witch of the her age's first words in months.

"I miss him," she sighed.

Harry felt like jumping up and crying out that his friend was back, that his friend was healing, that the sun would rise again. But instead, he took her hand.  
"Me too."

She untangled herself from his arms, and shakily got to her feet, which were stiff after hours of sitting still. Harry scrambled to his feet.

"It'll get better" she sighed. "I smell bacon", and with that, she wrapped Ron's' jumper closer around her, then slowly made her way up to the Burrow.

Harry stared after her. As the sun rose, casting the Burrow in a soft glow, the windows were set ablaze by the orb of fire that was peeking over the hills. Sunlight hit the back of his neck, and he rested a hand on the warming gravestone of his dead best friend, staring up at his living one. Filled with a warmth not caused by the sun, he smiled.

"It will get better," he repeated, before following her into the house.


	3. i am the thousand winds that blow

As Hermione woke, she felt his eyes on her before she saw him. His eyes matched the stormy shoreline behind him, glinted in the shadows. She had known he'd be there. The past 2 nights, he had sat in the armchair that he'd pushed to the side of her bed. Watching her, studying her. Noting the scratches and bruises, but counting the breaths as her chest rose, and her eyelids fluttered. Occasionally she'd wake, coming to, frozen with terror, the nightmares of cold marble floors, crazy haired witches and knives. Ron would instantly be by her side, stroking her back and wiping away her tears, holding her as she clutched the front of his shirt, burying her head into his chest. The steady thrum of his heart convincing her that they were safe, that they had escaped.

Sometimes, Ron noticed a shadow from under the door, floorboards creaking as someone else who had been woken by Hermione's screams, usually Harry who found it hard to sleep anyway, checked to make sure she wasn't alone. But tonight wasn't like that.

Hermione slowly sat up, avoiding putting pressure on her bandaged left arm.  
"Couldn't sleep?" her soft voice broke the gentle silence, waves lapping peacefully in the distance. Ron, who had only slept a few hours during the day, blearily rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, I, erm, don't quite trust the darkness" he admitted, pushing a hand through his hair. Hermione paused, not wanting to push for more, but she felt there was more to it.  
"I don't like not knowing if you're safe, in my dreams it all comes back, the not knowing, the helplessness. Being stuck in that cellar, listening to you scream, hearing you being so brave while I was stuck. Not being able to help. I had only just gotten you back, and then she took you from me. I felt so useless. Yet you were so brave and strong." his voice broke near the end, "I don't deserve you. And I never want to leave you again". During his speech, he had moved to kneeling by the bed, one hand framing her face, the other grasping hers. "I am so sorry", a lone tear dripped down his long nose, "I am so sorry I left you, that I couldn't save you, I couldn't do anything. I am so sorry that his happened to you."

Hermione placed her left hand on his scruffy cheek, wiping away his tears with her thumb, his unshaven face tickling her skin. Their eyes locked together, chocolate meeting storm. She could only move his hand from her face to her chest, just above her heart. Holding his palm over the steady beat, she leaned forward, placing her forehead against his.  
"You did save me. This heart beats for you, you say you did nothing but you saved my life. The only keeping me awake that night was your voice. Reminding me that there was hope. Filling me with love. Giving me a future. And that hope, and that love, and that possibility of a future with you was still within reach. Every time my heart beats, it's because of you and it's for you, no matter what." The honesty in her eyes and her voice, gave Ron the same hope he gave her.

Ron pulled her into his arms, burying his nose in her crazy hair. If they got out of this, he swore to himself that he would spend every day proving himself to her, proving he deserves her love. In this one moment, he had never felt more love for the small witch in his arms, the moonlight enveloping them in a circle of silver, he pulled back, and framed her face with his hands, his eyes seeking hers.

"Marry me?" he whispered, his eyes searching hers as his cool breath ghosted over her face. "Marry me so I can love you forever." He had dreamed of this moment, although he hadn't really planned it this early into the relationship. They hadn't even been on a date, but spending months together, on the run from the darkest wizard alive, and being friends for years must count for something. And with all that was going on, all he wanted was the promise of something better, something to fight for.

"Yes." The whisper across her lips was almost carried away by the crashing waves behind them.

"Yes?" He paused, "Really?"

"Yes, of course, yes!"

Their lips met in a crushing wave of love, and hope and joy and passion, which ended with Hermione pulling away slightly, both panting heavily. "Need air," she gasped.  
"Fuck air" he groaned, and he swooped down to recapture her lips, tugging lightly on her bottom lip. It ended with Ron falling on top of Hermione, leaning his weight on his elbows to avoid crushing her small frame. After a couple minutes, or hours, he tucked a tendril of curly hair behind her ear, and gazed into her eyes, his mind blown that this brilliant girl could want him to stand by him, till the end.

"Always the tone of surprise," she whispered, smiling into the night. His mind filled with flashes of flying, and duelling, George and alleyways, memories that felt like they belonged to someone else.

Ron pulled the covers up over the two of them, and wrapped his arms around Hermione, his fiancée, his future. Her back was tucked into his chest, her most vulnerable part, and she trusted him to watch over it.

"And it's you are whatever the moon has always meant and the sun will always sing is you" she murmured. Ron pressed a kiss behind her ear, and his whisper carried across the room, across the beach, across the waves and over to the land where dreams come true.

"I will love you until the end of time."

Hermione rolled over, snuggling into the empty side of the bed, reaching for his warmth, but her hand fell limply onto the pillow. Her eyes flew open and scrambled backwards, falling, her eyes frantically searching for the familiar head of ginger hair. But she was alone. 

Early morning sun was pouring through the window, flooding the room with light. She was in Ron's attic room, and the view out the window was of rolling hills and countryside, not a beach with crashing waves. She rolled off the bed, and searched underneath the bed wildly, her hands scrabbling at chocolate frog wrappers and scraps of old parchment, finally her fingers grasped the soft material of the beaded bag. Forgetting her wand, she stuck her arm into the bag which was pulled up to her armpit, as her hand searched the bag and its contents, repressing the memories that certain items reminded her of. Her fingers closed over the small object, her fist clenched around it. She threw the bag to the corner of the room. She slowly opened her hand, and there, in the palm of her hand sat a ring of sea glass. The pale green seemed to glow in the early morning sun, the smooth and dusty surface having an ethereal light. It was the top of a bottle which had been worn smooth by the Cornwall waves. The morning after his proposal, Ron had spent hours scouring the shore for the perfect stone, which, with a few modifications, became a beautiful pale green thin band of light. He had pulled her aside from the plans for Gringotts, and knelt down on one knee, although, midway through his re-proposal, she shrieked, and threw her arms around him. They convinced Harry that they knew the plan off by heart, and spent the rest of the afternoon together on the beach. That afternoon was the last true moment of peace that they would ever have together, as the next day, they left for Gringotts and the real world kicked in their brief and sheltered hope.

The overwhelming grief hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. A heart wrenching howl tore its way from her chest, as the soul piercing agony poured through her very blood. She cried, and sobbed and screamed, curling into herself, pulling the Chudley Canons blanket from the bed, and howling into the material, as it absorbed her tears. She didn't notice Harry and the Weasleys, her family, spilling into the room, bleary eyed but alert for attack with wands raised, only to realise the sound they heard was not a battle, but the sound of a young heart breaking. Hermione's breathing slowly evened, and she found herself staring into the eyes of Mrs Weasley, who was kneeling in front of her. She hiccupped and wiped the snot and tears from her face, and she tore her eyes from the tear filled ones belonging to the older witch who had slowly become her mother. Her eyes gazed out of the window, the beauty of the view pissing her off and calming her down. She turned back to her family, who had, without her realising, helped her to break down the wall that had separated her from her pain, and her recovery.

"We were so close", she cried. "We were going to be married, and we would've been so happy. We were so damn close."


	4. i am the diamond glint on snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts one month after the last one ended, so three months since the battle.

Hermione Granger sat at the kitchen table in the Burrow, sorting through the early morning post with a cup of tea to hand. But she'd found herself watching the early sunlight filtering through the wonky panes of glass, casting twisting shapes across the wall and the surface of the worn smooth wooden table. The effect was mesmerising and Hermione enjoyed the peace that came over her. The past month had been good, as good as it could have been. After Hermione's declaration and break down, she'd slept for 6 days, only woken twice to eat a bacon roll. But she hadn't read. Somehow she wasn't ready to return to that world. And she was just enjoying being home, because that's where she was, home. "Anything interesting, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked fondly as she continued to bustle around the kitchen preparing breakfast for her brood.  
Hermione tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "Not really, Luna's asked to come over later, she'd like to speak to Harry. I think she's must be a bit lonely. After the battle, it must have been strange to go back to a place you hadn't lived in for a year."

The plump woman smiled gently, "It would be lovely to see her, ask her for breakfast, no doubt she's an early bird, she'll get it in time," as she poured herself a cup of tea, a shriek from behind her made the cup tumble to the tiled floor. She whipped around, expecting a threat to her child. But there she was, the young girl who'd made Ron so incredibly wound up, standing and pointing at a pale pink piece of parchment, her eyes ablaze and her hair glowed from the sunlight behind it. Molly Weasley suddenly understood what her son had once written to her in 6th year, 'Merlin, mum, I swear when she gets angry, it could stop a stampede of hippogriffs. It's terrifying, but you can see the battle in her eyes. She's always searching for the good in someone. Pity it had to be Draco this time.'

Hermione's breathing quickened, and the energy seemed to seep out of her, she slumped back into her seat, her head in her hands. Molly picked up the parchment between finger and thumb, scanned it then swiftly set it ablaze. The ashes fell to the ground, and a brush swept it up instantly.

Hermione groaned from beneath her mane of hair, "It seems after losing someone you love you only get three months peace." She looked up at her mother figure, "I'm not ready, I can't tal-, I can't do th-. What am I meant to do? How do I go to interviews, and meetings and talk about what happened as if it was a success? How do I tell the story of how I lost him? He's gone, and I can't go with him. I can't follow him."

Molly sat down and bundled Hermione into her lap, just like back at the ruins that fateful day. After Hermione's tears subsided, the older woman cleaned her face, taking care with the soft skin beneath her eyes which had lost their hollowness. She then stood up and placed two bowls of porridge on the table, one in front of Hermione.

"I'm sorry." Came the small voice. "Sorry for disrupting your peace in the morning."

"Nonsense," Molly patted Hermione's shoulder, "I like the company. It's nice having someone to talk to in the mornings. That's the thing with having seven sons, you neve-." The chuckle died in her throat. "Six sons." The following silence seemed to suck the early sunlight out of the bright cosy room, drawing the warmth out of the bright copper pans and scuffed tile floor. Mrs Weasley felt a small hand slip into her own, and she was once again reminded of the days after the battle. But looking at Hermione, she didn't see what she'd lost, but what she'd found. Someone who was just as broken, even more, and she'd begun to heal. Hermione was not the broken young girl she was all those months ago, she was looking so much stronger.

Molly squeezed that hand in hers, and patted it. "I've lost a son, but I've gained a daughter." They both smiled watery smiles, then they continued to eat in peace. And Molly was right, Hermione was looking and feeling so much better. She was glowing, she'd regained the weight she'd lost and her face was looking a lot fuller and healthier. In fact, Hermione was becoming a lovely young woman, who would obviously be very popular with the opposite sex. Not that she would notice or care, but Harry and the boys would. They had been so protective of her when she was still so fragile. The thought of that hateful Skeeter reporter requesting an interview reminded Molly to check with Arthur and Bill that the wards had been extended from the Burrow's perimeter to protect them all from the media. Hermione and Harry had only just began to mend and nobody needed the media frenzy that had been brewing around 'The Golden Duo', a name that Molly had kept from Harry and Hermione from seeing in the paper. The thought of someone erasing her son from the history of the winning of the Second Wizarding War set Molly's mere blood aflame.

The thundering of many feet on the staircase broke the moment. The dust notes that had been waltzing in the early light were swirled into a frenzy as Harry, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ginny and the twins tumbled into the room, Arthur following in a slightly more dignified manner, as they filled the room with barks of laughter and yawns and the scrapings of chairs and cutlery. Charlie ruffled Hermione's hair as he passed and Bill poured her more tea as he made himself a cup. Yes, the boys were still incredibly protective of Hermione. As the twins began to bewitch Percy's cup of tea to run away for him hand as he read the newspaper and absently reached for his drink, Hermione relocated to the armchair at the side with her cup of tea, tucking her feet below her. She sat and watch the noise and warmth and pure 'Weasleyness' of the moment.

After the crazy breakfast, everyone was relaxed and doing their own things, Bill was writing to Fleur who was staying in France at the moment. Ginny was playing exploding snap with Charlie on the floor, while Harry sat on an armchair playing with her hair and just watching the room. Luna appeared in the doorway, smiling and clutching a bunch of brightly coloured daisies. Hermione un-tucked herself from the chair, and as she stood she stretched towards the ceiling, enjoying the feeling of her muscles loosening and stretching. And she felt Ron's jumper ride up her stomach an inch or two. Unheard to her, there were two smalls gasps across the room. But then she turned around, and heard the six words that marked the beginning of the rest of her life.

"Oh! How far along are you?" Luna asked calmly, her eyes big and neutral with a smile tugging at her lips, as if friends she hadn't seen for months often were seen sporting a small baby bump. Hermione's hands dropped to her stomach where there was a definite bump. Her eyes widened as she locked gazes with Harry. Her empty tea cup slipped from her grasp and as it took years to fall, Hermione's mouth formed a small 'o', and then she felt as if she were falling. And then the world went out.


	5. i am the sun on ripened grain

Hermione awoke to the gently clicking of needles. Her head was groggy, and she blinked against the sudden yellow light, and gently raised her hand to shade her eyes. The clicking stopped. As Hermione raised herself up the bed, she looked around, noticing Mrs Weasley sitting beside the bed in an old armchair. The older woman was gazing at the younger, and instead of the loss and pain, and helplessness that had shrouded her eyes for months, Hermione saw hope and joy. And then her vision was clouded by the mass of black hair, belonging to her best friend, as he smothered her in a tight hug. He pulled back, and framed her face in his hands, his green eyes searching hers.

"Don't ever do that again, you hear me? Ever", he said, his voice hoarse. Hermione gazed back at him, remembering his eyes. She remembered seeing them across a train compartment over seven years ago. She remembered seeing them lit up with fire as they sat in the common room. She remembered waking up in the hospital wing in fifth year with a pain in her chest, and the look in those very eyes, as he sat by her bed, that gave her a whole new pain in her heart. She remembered seeing those eyes widen across the Burrow's sitting room, as they flitted down with a Seeker's accuracy to her stomach. Hermione's hands had been wrapped around Harry's forearms. But they dropped to the blanket covering the bed. They, ever so slowly, made their way to her abdomen. Harry leant back, and captured one of Hermione's shaking hands in his own. She looked from him to Mrs Weasley, who had watched the whole time with a mother's eye.

"Is it true?" she whispered. Mrs Weasley nodded, with the ghost of a smile.

"Sweetheart, you're perfectly fine. The baby is perfectly fine. Everything is going to be alright", the older eyes found the young.

"The b - the baby. Wha - how -no no no." Hermione was beginning to panic, her breaths coming out in short gasps. She could feel herself slipping into the dark place she'd avoided for months. But a squeeze from Harry's hand brought her back. 

Harry answered her. "You fainted. But George caught you, and we brought you up here. Erm, a Healer came by, she checked you over, and set up an appointment for next week for you to go see her. She . . . she checked the baby, and it's strong and it's healthy. You're about three and a half months along." Harry rubbed the back of his neck, "She said that the worst is over but she recommended a lot of rest". He looked to Hermione, who hadn't moved since his little speech ended.

"You are going to be fine, Hermione" said Mrs Weasley, who stood up, and kissed Hermione's forehead before gently patting her cheek. "We're all here for you. And I know the best remedy for a shock like this; home cooking and peace. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, I'll send some up to you", she smiled and made her way to the door. 

Hermione blinked, trying to make sense of everything she that had happened in the past few months. Her wide brown eyes brimming with tears looked to Harry.  
"I'm having a baby. I'm ha-having Ron's baby." Her breaths were evening out, and her colour was returning to her face. One of her small hands caressed the slight bump, and her mind floated away to a beach with a huge blue grey sky, a shadow of a smile dancing across her features. She slowly pulled away from Harry and untangled herself from the blankets on the bed. 

She gently stood and padded over to the window, shutting her eyes. As the warmth of the fading sun touched her eyelids, she sighed.  
"How am I meant to do this, Harry? How can I do this on my own? Without him?", she gazed out of the window, looking down at the old apple tree, and she felt Harry push off from the bed and join her by the window. "I feel so lost in this."

Her small hand was captured in his large warm one, and their fingers interlocked tightly. His thumb stroked the back of her hand.

"Lost but not alone, Hermione. I promise that I'll be with you the whole way."


	6. i am the gentle autumn rain

Hermione padded into the kitchen the next day, to find the whole Weasley clan around the table about to eat lunch. When she entered, the conversation stopped. She bit her lip and was worried her nightmare had come true again, they found it to awkward around her now she was pregnant and they weren't going to be rid of her soon. While her anxious thoughts had only taken a second to build up, the air was filled with the sound of chairs being scraped back and she was suddenly swept into the arms of the family that had become her own. Laughter and congratulations sang through the air, and Hermione held on to anyone she could reach.

"Get away! Shoo!" Mrs Weasley was swatting at her brood as they backed off, "Give her room to breathe, honestly, what did I say about being gentle not 5 minutes ago?" She patted Hermione's arm with a warm smile then set about sorted a bowl of soup for the girl. Arthur gave her a soft hug before he sat down himself. Hermione sat down at the table next to Charlie, who poured her a cup of pumpkin juice as Mrs Weasley passed her a bowl of soup, which smelled amazing. The meal returned to normal, apart from the constant smiles aimed at Hermione and whenever she found her plate empty, it was filled by hands that weren't hers. When all the food had been eaten, and chairs were pushed back to make room for full stomachs and cups of tea were passed around, talk turned to the pressing issue of whether the cake tin should be cracked open, which it then was.

George cleared his throat, "Me and Fred reckon it's time to go see about opening up the shop again." Fred nodded, "Yeah, we've cleared up the damage so it's all grand spanking new."

Hermione's head shot up. "Can I come into Diagon Alley with you?"

All eyes around the table shot to Hermione, who looked back enquiringly, eyebrow raised, daring them to turn her down.

Ginny asked "Are you sure you're ready?"

Hermione nodded, "I think so, I'd like to get out and see the world again. Plus I'd like to get some books."

Mrs Weasley was about to say something when Mr Weasley placed a gentle hand on hers and squeezed it. She looked at her husband and sighed, knowing he was right, and she looked at Hermione and smiled. 

"That sounds lovely. Try to enjoy yourself."

Fred grinned, feeling responsible for Hermione's breakthrough, "Great, we were thinking of leaving around 2?"

It turned out that suddenly most of the Weasleys had reasons to visit Diagon Alley, Bill wanted to drop into Gringotts, Charlie was after a new quill, Percy had heard of a book he wanted to look into, Ginny claimed to want a book as well and Harry wasn't going to miss this for the world. Hermione sighed as she came downstairs to find them all standing by the fireplace. "Really? It's just Diagon Alley", she said, shaking her head and laughing. Despite it being August, she had gone for jeans and a jacket left open to hide her small bump.

"Shall we?" Bill asked, holding out the floo powder.

"Thank you darling," Fred answered, helping himself before stepping into the fireplace.

By the time they had all arrived in Diagon Alley (Hermione second last as they wanted to make sure the end was safe), it was close to half to half two on a Sunday afternoon and the street was busy. Hermione gasped, it was almost the same Diagon Alley she had visited seven years ago. Apart from one difference, the cracks left in the brickwork and the paving slabs had been filled, filled with love and light. Melted gold had been poured into the cracks of the street. This gave the street veins of gold sparkling in the light, and once more there was life in Diagon Alley. Shop owners had returned and rebuilt their places of business, and those shop fronts that had no-one to return to them were claimed and brought back to life. One shop across from Ollivanders had become a dark arts supply shop in to war, but now it was a flower shop filled to the brim with common and exotic flowers. The flowers had spilled out onto the street and any who passed by could smell the sweet scents.

Hermione set off for Flourish and Blotts but felt the entire group around her move with her, surrounding her. "I thought you had places to go?" She asked pointedly. No-one moved. She glared at Charlie, who winked at her.

"Sorry love, promised mum we'd look out for you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but moved forward, hoping her protectors would eventually back off. They didn't, a tight circle was kept around her at all times, often causing Weasleys and Hermiones to trip over each other as they manoeuvred along the street. What she didn't realise was that if news that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were shopping in Diagon Alley spread, they would be surrounded by photographers and reporters within seconds. Bill especially knew this, and kept close to Hermione, his hand hovering inches from her back the whole time. 

As they passed the new flower shop, she spotted a flash of soft pink amongst the oranges and yellows of the large bouquets in buckets at the front. Glancing back at the others who were all distracted by a new display in Quidditch Supplies, she slipped over to the edge of the display. There were half a dozen buckets filled with roses. Red, yellow, white, all the colours common to the muggle world were there. And then the Wizarding world roses: sky blue, violet, orange, pale lavender. But Hermione was drawn to the smallest bucket. These roses were cream coloured, with the petals turning a pale pink towards the edges with flecks of darker pink. She kneeled down, slightly awkwardly due to the bump which she wasn't used to, Bill and George noticing and moving forward to help. She didn't need it but they did their typical job of staying where she could feel their presence, knowing she could rely on them anytime. Her hand slowly picked out a perfect rose. The creamy pink petals brushed her nose as she held it to her face, closing her eyes, a drum beating within her and she thought of him in the quiet willing crowd.

 

Ron had been back for a few weeks, and they were walking to Xenophilius Lovegood's, where Hermione hoped they'd find out something about the strange symbol that seemed to haunt them. Harry was striding ahead, feeling rejuvenated now they had a plan, and now that Ron had returned. Also the fact he'd just finished his shift with the locket and passed it on to Hermione helped. Ron was walking a few feet behind Harry, running his hand along the low stone wall that lined the country lane they were walking along. With every step she took Hermione felt the locket bounce against her chest, the coldness pushing it's way into her heart. The hopelessness of their situation was trying to overwhelm her, her heart kicking her every time it beat, pushing her failures to the front of her mind. Breaking Harry's wand. How could they even consider defeating Voldemort, the most powerful wizard alive, after the saviours best friend had snapped his wand. How could they possi – NO! She shook her head, trying to scatter the negative thoughts. A flash of gold distracted her, up ahead the sun had broken over the low hill that surrounded the valley they were in, and the bright golden light had caught in Ron's hair and lingered there. A month ago Hermione would've given anything to see that head of hair poke out of the tent flap offering her a cup of tea while she was on watch, or poking out from beneath the covers on his bottom bunk. And now he was here, and Hermione just couldn't stop watching him. It was as if she didn't really believe he was really there, he honestly and truly came back to them. His hand was still grazing along the wall, his exposed forearm was littered with the scars from the Department of Mysteries. They were all scarred now. She'd never forget the moment his eyes left hers when he flung himself out of the tent; the seven year connection between them snapping and wrenching a hole in her chest. She hated her vulnerability when he had gone. She hated the power he held over her. She hated the fact that she looked to him so much. She hated the fact that she'd follow him anywhere. She hated that he hadn't trusted her, and followed her. She hated that she didn't feel like she was enough for him.  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, reverting back to muggle slang in her anger. They were passing a small stone cottage, it's little front garden filled with greenery. Ron had stopped by a patch of winter roses that were clambering over the wall. His long fingers had just snapped the stem of a rose as he held it to his nose. At the sharp tone of her voice, his eyes darted to hers questioningly.

She stopped walking, and raised her eyebrows accusingly. "That's someone's garden, their private property. . . which you are vandalising for NO REASON!"

At this, a small smile crept onto Harry's face. He'd missed this.

"Good luck, mate" he muttered, clapping Ron on the back and continuing to walk.

"Come on then! What gives you the right?" Hermione's voice had become shrill.

Ron's eyes softened as the hand holding the rose fell to his side, and the other ruffled his hair. This was the most emotion he'd gotten from the witch since she'd attacked him with leaves. He smiled a little.

Hermione's voice was quiet and breathy, "What gives you the right to break something that isn't yours?" His shoulders slumped and his smile lost its light as he saw tears shining in her eyes. He dropped his bag from his back and walked over to where the girl he'd loved for years stood. Where she stood and where she was crying, because of him. He held out the rose, his eyes never leaving hers, begging for the connection he thought he'd lost forever.

"It's for you." His words danced across the wind to her. "It's all for you now."

Hermione's eyes flickered down to the rose. It's pale and creamy pink petals glowed in the soft light. He's offering her everything she's ever wanted, centuries of it. And that thought ran into her heart.

Her face softened as she tentatively took the rose from him, rolling the stem between her fingers. She looked up at him and saw the sadness burn into hope in his eyes. They reached for each other instantly, his arms hooked around her back, standing tall so he was holding her up and her legs wrapped around him. Her hand with the rose is wrapped around the back of his neck, the other is pushed into his hair. Her face is pressed into his neck, while he buried his face in her hair. They stand there for a while, just holding each other. Harry sat on the wall a few metres away, he glanced at his best friends before pulling an apple out of his bag.  
When Ron lowered Hermione back to the ground, his hands framed her face, "I'm here for good now, you're stuck with me." He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead then he leant down to pick up his bag, with one hand still firmly entwined with Hermione's. The rose was still in her other hand. As they caught up with Harry, he chuckled and threw away his apple core.

"Finally," he laughed.

 

Hermione gazed at the rose. In the quiet moments between her heartbeats, she imagined something different, a different hand reaching down to help her up into a different world with a different future. But she stops after a moment, feeling calm. She slowly gets to her feet, smiling but shaking her head at the hands offered. The shopkeeper, a small round wizard in burgundy robes, bustled over. He smiled at the group, but it grew brighter at Harry and Hermione.

"Don't even think about trying to pay for that flower," he beamed. Harry looked awkward but Hermione smiled at him softly.

"Thank you," she murmured but he was gone, called over by another customer. The rose was all she needed for now. Ron had been gone for months now, but he was there in the petals all the same.


End file.
